Father's Day
by x.DoeandStag.x
Summary: Harry is both shocked and mesmerised to find himself in 1980. After rejoicing at meeting his parents before their untimely death, Harry discovers the awful truth. He is faced with a choice - change history and damage the walls of time itself, or worse, watch his own parents die? Canon Pairings.
1. Drown your sorrows in firewhiskey

**AN, Disclaimer: All characters etc. belong to the wonderful JK Rowling! Some aspects of the plot you may recognise if you are a Doctor Who fan, because this fanfiction is VERY loosely based on an episode of the same name. Obviously, all credits in that respect go to the BBC, and I claim none of it either. However, I hasten to add that a lot of the 'un-canon' ideas in the story are still my own, so please bear that in mind if you decide to review! ;)**

**All reviews are much appreciated and really help me out, but whether you choose to review or not, great thanks are required anyway for clicking the link to this story! Please enjoy x**

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><p>Harry woke with a start. Something was wrong; he was not sure how he knew it – after all, his eyes were tight shut and he could feel his half-worn mattress beneath his back. He could even hear the Dursleys whispering about something downstairs – wait, <em>whispering – <em>why would they whisper? There were neighbours to scorn and posh company cars to yell about so _why _were they being so secretive?

It was only then that it struck Harry that he may not be in 4 Privet Drive at all, and with that, his eyes flung open.

He was sitting – or rather, lying – in a decent sized room with large bay windows overlooking a quiet street. It was evidently early morning, as the sky outside was glowing orange and heavy dew seemed to glitter on the long grass over the road. For reasons unknown, Harry found he was quite at peace. Fair enough, he had just woken up in a strange room that he had never been in before, but something just felt right. It was only upon closing eyes that he took a quick glance at the ceiling. He froze for a moment and stared.

Banners of red and gold streamed the gaps between the beams in the roof and many faces were looking interestedly down on him. Harry threw on his glasses, which were nestled along with his wand in his back pockets. He looked up again, and realised the images were all too familiar – it was him. There he was, at a Quidditch match, arms raised in victory and there he was again, a small first year in oversized uniform standing in front of the steaming Hogwarts Express. Why had someone plastered his face all over the ceiling? This had to be the work of Dobby – perhaps he had somehow travelled to the Room of Requirement in his sleep! Many thoughts crossed his mind as he gazed absent-mindedly at an image of him at the Japanese Quidditch Cup – wait, something was wrong, _he _had never been to Japan…

Harry looked upon the images with renewed interest and found that the eyes blinking rapidly down at him were not his own emerald green, but a definite hazel. Unless someone had put some sort of colour-changing charm on the images (and after all, what would be the point?), then he was unmistakably looking into the eyes of James Potter.

Not a moment after he had come to this realisation, a voice came calling through the house.

"James? Are you up yet?"

Thinking that the owner of the voice would be surprised to see 'James' with a sudden change of eye-colour, he threw his glasses underneath the bed and rolled over, pretending to be asleep. He was tired, and it was too early for confrontations.

"Son, why are you still in bed? Get up! You're meant to be at Dumbledore's today. I'm an ill old man and if your mother was still alive – "

Harry muttered something as incomprehensible as he could manage.

"You're lucky I haven't told Lily anything about this, you know. Turning up in the middle of the night, asleep on the doorstep? Times are rough at the moment James, and drowning your sorrows in firewhiskey isn't going to get rid of You-Know-Who. Honestly, I would have expected this at sixteen, but twenty?"

There was nothing for it, thought Harry. If he opened his eyes, his grandfather would realise he was not who he thought he was. On the other hand, if he continued to pretend to be asleep, Mr Potter would think that James had fallen down drunkenly on the doorstep last night. As silently as Harry could muster, he confunded him. Before the charm wore off, Harry piped up "Sorry, did you say something about Dumbledore?"

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><p><strong>There you go, I hope you enjoyed that! It has been a relatively short chapter, but I wanted to get the story up and running as soon as possible. Future chapters will be longer! Please tell me if I have made any mistakes with the storyline  any grammatical errors, because I am quite finnickity about those matters myself. :) Have a good night!**


	2. I know, Harry, I know

**Thank you to all the followers - to MSupernatural, who kindly reviewed, I have left my reply in another review. Here's the next one - it's a bit more technical than the last but hopefully I'm not just talking a load of gibberish. Same thing applies as the last chapter - constructive criticism is accepted gladly as are any grammar corrections etc. I found I had a lot to say in this chapter, so the sentence structure may not be as varied as I would like meaning the story does not flow as well as in Chapter One, but I will rectify this in Chapter Three. ;) X**

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><p>Dumbledore gave a long sigh and rubbed his eyes in frustration. Harry had never seen him look so lost, nor did he want to ever again.<p>

"So you said you came from the future?"

"Yes, that's it," Harry replied hopefully. "I know it's hard to believe, but –"

"Oh, I believe you alright. In the wizarding world, time travel is not as uncommon as you may think."

"I know all about Time Turners!"

"No. I wish I was on about those small, clever and intricate objects! The Ministry have to warn users against excessive use by law but they are incapable of going back more than 24 hours. Hence, the consequences can be problematic, but rarely fatal – if you get stuck in the past, you'll just have to hide away for a couple of hours, and no harm done. Oh no, this is something a whole lot different…"

Dumbledore looked troubled, and Harry knew better than to question him when he was this deep in thought. After a couple of moments, however, he continued to speak.

"Did you say your name was Harry?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, Harry, imagine a large stack of paper. That's essentially what time is – not a straightforward timeline as some might think, but rather a complicated spectrum containing parallel timelines that form our universe. You have arrived in May 1980, less than twenty years from your own timeline. Remember that stack of paper. Are you following?"

Harry did not wholly understand but he nodded his head anyway.

"It seems you have fallen through a rip in one of the sheets of paper, and on to the layer below, sending you here. This happens fairly often, there's always a wizard or two who falls into the previous week. It's due to an override of magical concentration in their square metre – we have enchantments protecting it from happening at Hogwarts, and at the Ministry. Still, there's a room in the Department of Mysteries that deals with time, and it is responsible for bringing the back lost few who have woefully forgotten to enchant the area of a drunken wizard gathering . That's it, no harm done. Yet no one's ever come this far back before – the power needed to generate such a rip would tear apart the tectonic plates of the earth! So HOW did you get here?"

Harry gave a non-committal shrug; this had become too complicated for him to understand. Where was Hermione when you needed her?

"Anyway," said Dumbledore, regaining the twinkle in his eyes. "I forgot my manners! So tell me Harry, who are you, and why do you look so familiar?"

There was no time to waste. Harry hurtled through his story, his past, his parents and everything that had happened up to the end of his fifth year, a mere week ago. Actually, thought Harry, that's nearly 16 years in the future. This disturbed him for some reason; he pushed the thought out of his mind.

"Lily? James? They're going to be….gone?" Dumbledore stared at him with watery eyes. "Oh Harry, I'm so, so sorry, but I think its best that you avoid them until we can get you back to your own time."

Harry's heart sank. He had a feeling Dumbledore would say this, yet it had been the only reason he wanted to stay here, in 1980. The Mirror of Erised appeared in his mind, and he realised how much he had been longing to stare in to those emerald eyes again; how much he had wanted to see that untidy hair. He did not realise that he had been staring into space, just as he had forgotten that Dumbledore was an accomplished Legilimens. He snapped out of his trance, ready to apologise, but Dumbledore was looking at him with empathy streaming from his eyes.

"I know, Harry, I know."

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><p>It was almost three pm and having spent the past two hours at Dumbledore's, Harry felt he was able to go out into the fresh spring skies of May 1980. After some easy persuasion, it had been decided that Harry could meet with Lily and James.<p>

"You MUSN'T tell them who you are. Hear that, Harry? You MUSN'T. If anyone asks, you are his…I don't know…long lost cousin. Stronger wizards than you have been tempted before… Now, be on your way, and – "

"What, Professor?"

"Good Luck, Harry Potter."


	3. Mate, if I needed post, I'd get an owl

**Chapter three, brought to you by the courtesy of the writing bug! Bear in mind that the Potters do not yet know anything about the prophecy, as with Dumbledore. (Hardcore Potter fans, does it mention a date of Trelawney's prophecy? I can't recall any myself) ;) xx**

Lily groaned, retching over the sink like there was no tomorrow. She was really getting sick of this now – 'sick' being the provocative word! The Healers at St Mungo's had said that she could expect a few days of so-called 'morning sickness'– well, that was a euphemism for feeling like a dead carcass lying abandoned on a road.

However, she was now about 7 months along, and the sickness hadn't stopped. It was OK when James was there – she still felt rotten but the pity was nice. But when he was away with the Order…that was when it really got to her. He ought to have been coming back at that very time, but Lily always allowed a couple of hours either way because when James was saving the world with Sirius he wasn't rushing home to see his wife who, more recently, resembled some sort of overgrown hedge. Oh well, Lily thought, at least Dumbledore had cancelled his meeting with him. She wanted to see James so badly that she didn't even bother asking him why, though now it did strike her as odd…

Yet that was neither here nor there. Moments later, Lily submerged from the sink and retreated heavily back along to the living room; she was just about to sit down on the sofa when a crash resounded in her ears. Seeing her husband open the door, she breathed a sigh of relief.

"James! What did I tell you about coming in like that? One of these days I swear I'll go into labour and – "

"Calm yourself Lily, I just knocked over the pot plant. I TOLD you not to put it there. But did you listen?"

"Oh shut up, you old thing!" Lily would never admit it but she secretly loved these little bickering sessions she shared with her husband. It was almost like she was a kid again, at Hogwarts, with not a care in the world.

"What took you so long?" She said, looking inquiringly at James, amusing herself imagining his most recent excuse.

"A Death Eater was on our tail. We had to double back to make sure we weren't being followed." James, however, was aware of Lily watching him and said quickly, "I'm sorry, Lils, I know you miss all the action."

"I just hate sitting here at home, James, whiling the days away. I mean, the house is lovely and everything and I know I should be grateful but I'm bored, I really am."

"Lily, you think too much. Soon we'll have a son and we'll take turns looking after him so we can both get our fair share of the action, I'm sure."

"Oh, I hope so," said Lily, wishfully.

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><p>Meanwhile, Harry was standing right outside the Potter's home in Godric's Hollow, waiting with bated breath. He had ignored Dumbledore's advice about not directly seeking out the Potters, but had instead taken on the pretence of a postman in hope that James would recognise him as soon as he opened the door. Slowly, he rapped on the brass knocker.<p>

"Hello?" said a voice as the tall, red door swung open on its hinge.

"I'm here to deliver your post," said Harry. His plan HAD to work.

"Mate, what are you on about? If I wanted post delivered to me, I'd fetch my owl, not some sort of Muggle gimmick."

Harry snapped back into reality; he had been too busy gazing into those hazel eyes, so different to his own. Yet now, as a blush rose furiously in his cheeks, he realised how stupid his plan had been, almost childish. A postman? In the wizarding world? He'd better buck up his ideas fast. He stuttered an explanation as clearly as he could muster.

"Sorry, I - I should have explained myself. I'm a representative from the Ministry of Magic of erm…Ireland. Department of International Magical Co-operation. I was about to deliver you a survey when I realised it would be more prudent to ask you in person, so, er, here I am."

"So this Ministry – why can't they just use owls, I mean – "

James stopped short. His wife was peering around the corner, to see what the fuss was about. Her mouth dropped open.

"James – look – it's you!"

"What do you mean, Lily, I'm here," he rolled his eyes at Harry, muttering something about hormones.

"No, James, look. Look at his hair. Look at his cheekbones."

James turned back around to peer at Harry like he was an animal in a zoo.

"Come to think of it, he does look a little bit like me. But that's beside the point! What's the Ministry of Magic in Ireland doing, barging in on me and my pregnant wife garbling something about a survey?"

"James," said Lily, quietly, "I think we should invite him in."

"What? Lily, this man could be an impostor, a death eater, a –" but words failed James as he saw the look on his wife's face.

"Oh, alright then. Come on in."

**There you go! Please take the time to review, it would mean the world to me ;)**


	4. Who's sending us a Howler?

**Thanks to cookyc and MSupernatural for your reviews! Here's the next chapter, please enjoy x**

Harry sat down next to Lily on the worn, leather sofa. He tried to appear as casual as possible, but he couldn't help staring around the room with wild eyes. This is where he would have played on his toy broom, where he would have snuggled into his mother, where he sat catching wisps of magical smoke on the night his parents died…

It was so strange to be sat there, looking into his parents' eyes as he had so needed to do for so long. His father was still standing next to the door. As Harry watched him, he searched for something behind James' eyes – seeking some sort of deeper knowledge of what was to come – yet all he saw was a normal man; a man who looked tired and worn but loved his wife and his unborn child dearly – yes, there were things behind those hazel spheres, but nothing out of the ordinary…

How he longed to tell them who he really was, how he longed to somehow prevent their deaths…he did not care about anyone else, he did not care that Voldemort would not be defeated, did not care that the sinews of time holding the universe together would crumble and snap. Lily and James were looking bemusedly at Harry, not knowing that they would never watch their son grow up, never see him play quidditch, never be there when he brought a girlfriend home…

"So, why did you want to visit us?" asked James, snapping Harry out of his deep thoughts.

"Well, er, the thing is…" Harry struggled to grasp a convincing story; he had not expected to be interrogated so quickly. "I, erm…"

"Go on," encouraged Lily kindly. He could not help staring at her stomach – that was _him _in there. This couldn't get any stranger.

"Well, you see, I, erm, was working on a survey for the Ministry in Ireland. I saw the name "Potter" and I couldn't help wondering…"

"I've got it!" exclaimed James. "We must be related! I knew it – I swear I did – my father mentioned I had cousins who emigrated there a couple of decades back!"

With relief, Harry decided to go along with James' story. But what now? Surely they would want to know who he was, why he never went to Hogwarts!

WAIT – James' father! He still had no idea that the boy who got out of James' bed that morning was not who he thought he was. Surely he would mention their meeting to James…

"But this is great!" continued James. "Wait-are you OK?"

Harry was staring fixatedly at the window, because soaring towards it was an old tawny owl – an owl with an unmistakably red letter clutched in its closed beak.

"God," proclaimed Lily, "Who's sending us a howler?"

They all stared at the post for several, drawn out moments.

"I better open it," said James, breaking the silence.

"JAMES POTTER! How dare you turn up on my doorstep drunk late at night without warning me? Well, I promised I wouldn't tell Lily but coming back to see the house in pieces, debris everywhere! I am so – _upset – _by you!"

There was an uneasy silence as the howler halted…James and Lily looked bewildered. However, the howler was not over. When it spoke again, it did so in a quieter, meeker voice.

"Oh my God…" Harry's grandfather was gasping with fear and Harry suddenly knew who had littered the Potter mansion, who was lurking inside the very walls…

"James, they're coming. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean anything I just said; it was stupid. So stupid. By the time you get this, it will be too late – I'll be, well, I'll be with your mother. Goodbye, son, I - "

The howler ended, midsentence.

"Maybe he's still alive," whispered Harry, hopefully. "If we could just go over- I mean, someone must have attached that note to the howler…"

"No," said a quiet voice. James had his head in his hands a couple of feet away from Harry. "It's a new death eater thing, make an enemy angry about their loved one, so angry they'd write a Howler…then kill them midsentence, and send the Howler anyway – just to relish that extra pain," he finished, bitterly. "I had a feeling something was wrong when I saw the Howler...God, he's gone…he's really gone. Oh, Dad…"

"That's new, though," interrupted Lily. "Sneaking into your bed – they must have used polyjuice potion – "

"No," said Harry. He was going to have to tell them at some point. "That was me. I was, erm, on my way here last night when, er, (Harry struggled to come up with something at such short notice) I was stunned. It must have been your father's street; he thought I was you."

James frowned, but decided not to press on with the matter. "Just goes to show you, though, doesn't it? Never can be too careful. Speaking of careful, Sirius and Dumbledore are meant to be getting here soon to discuss putting the Fidelius Charm on the house, just in case, you know. They're late," he added, glancing at the clock.

Harry's heart leapt. He was going to see his godfather again. His godfather, who had slipped out of his hands in to the veil – if he could just prevent him from going to Azkaban – maybe he could grow up with him!

Out the corner of his eye, Harry saw Lily studying him carefully, a frown on her heart-shaped face.


End file.
